Bright Smiles deleted scene
by rayrae118
Summary: a couple of deleted scenes from my story Bright Smiles, Hard Eyes, and Unpleasant Truths. please check out the actual story as well!
1. Chapter 1

**By request, here is a missing scene from my story **_**Bright Smiles, Hard Eyes, and Unpleasant Truths**_**. This is how I would imagine the scene between Pike and Barnett going.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek**

Christopher Pike looked up at the knock on the door. Admiral Richard Barnett lowered his hand, and on Pike's nod, he entered the room.

Barnett took a moment to look the captain over, mentally assessing the man in front of him. Chris looked about as healthy as a man who had been through his ordeal could be. There was clearly something on his mind, but Barnett figured it was only natural, considering everything the man had been through. Not for the first time since he had gotten Pike's message, the admiral wondered just what was so important that Chris needed to see him, _before_ he went and reamed out that idiot of a cadet.

"Admiral." Pike interrupted Barnett's thoughts, pulling him back into the present.

Barnett nodded. "Chris," he replied, walking forward until he was standing next to the bed. "How are you-"

"I swear to God if you finish that sentence, I _will_ get out of this bed and happily beat you to death," Pike interrupted, voice harsh.

The admiral winced and nodded. "Sorry," he replied.

Pike jerked his head in the direction of the empty chair still sitting by to the bed. Barnett looked at the seat, and then back at the captain. "I think I'll stand," he stated. "I'd kind of like to know why I'm here and not yelling at your advisee right now."

Chris sighed. Here was the hard part. He wasn't sensing a lot of sympathy coming from the other man. He knew the admiralty was split on the cadet. Most of them seemed to think he would make a good captain, even a great one, _if_ he could grow up and start listening to authority. There was still a small fraction, however, that was looking for any excuse to kick the young man out on his ear, recent hero status be damned.

He knew Barnett was more of the former thought, though he suspected the admiral was much fonder of Kirk than he would admit, recent tribunal notwithstanding. It might be possible that the older man was looking for a reason to stand by James Kirk, to support him and help him reach the level they all knew he was capable of.

"You're here because I want to ask you to cut the kid some slack," Pike sighed.

Barnett raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming you have some actual reasoning behind that statement," he retorted. "Preferably something more than just you 'asking' me for special treatment."

Chris stared the admiral down. He needed Barnett to understand, but he really didn't want to air Kirk's dirty laundry. After all, the young man had come to Starfleet to escape his past; he didn't need any more reminders of it now. And did the man seriously think he would ask for a favor like this just because he felt like it?

Finally, Barnett exhaled. "Let's here it then," he said, flopping down into the waiting chair, resting his elbow on the arm, and propping his head up as he gazed at the captain.

Pike smiled slightly. It wasn't quite a cheerful look, but there was a bit of satisfaction in the expression. Almost as quickly, it disappeared. He glanced up at the ceiling, and then rolled his head back to look at his visitor. It was do or die time. "How much do you know about the Kirk family?" he asked, testing the waters.

The admiral looked confused. "What does this have to do with anything?" he shot back.

Chris sighed again, looking suddenly weary. "Just humor me, Richard," he replied.

That caught Barnett's attention. His friend sounded almost… defeated. Clearly, this was important to him. He cleared his throat. "I know the story," he answered, still wondering where the hell this was going.

Pike shook his head. "Not that," he corrected, "I mean, how much do you know about what happened after George Kirk died?"

Now Barnett was really confused. "I'm not sure what you mean," he responded.

Chris met the admiral's eyes once more, and Barnett was shocked at the amount of sadness he saw there. "What do you know about what happened with the Kirks after the _Kelvin_ incident?" he reiterated.

Barnett took a moment to think. "Commander Kirk stayed in service," he replied, going along with the captain, though still clearly confused. "She remarried, didn't she?"

Pike nodded. "Remarried when Jim was six, divorced when he was twenty-one."

The admiral narrowed his eyes at the harsh tone Pike used. Clearly, there was more to the story than he had realized.

Chris shook his head. "What else?" he asked, giving Barnett a metaphorical nudge.

Richard waited a beat, but it was clear the captain wasn't going to share. "Didn't her older son run away?" he continued, making it more of a question than a statement. Pike nodded, confirming the fact, but didn't speak up, so Barnett kept going. "I know Kirk – Jim – was arrested a few times…" he trailed off, not sure what else the captain was looking for. He really hadn't kept in touch with Winona: they had known each other, of course – she and George had been stationed on his ship for a brief period – back when he was a captain – before being transferred to the _Kelvin_. But they hadn't been that close; actually, he had been good friends with George – the younger man had always been keen to learn, and had taken to asking Barnett as many questions as he could. He saw the same thirst for knowledge in George's son, as well as the same instinct and determination. It was those similarities that made him more willing than most of the admirals to look past the indiscretions. Because he knew what Kirk could accomplish. After all, he had seen it before.

He saw that Pike was still waiting for an answer. He smiled almost wistfully, still caught up in memories. "I was always closer with George," he finished, "Winona and I didn't really keep in touch."

Chris nodded, and a smile of his own graced his lips. He knew Barnett was the right admiral to talk to, because of his relationship with Jim's father. If the younger Kirk was Pike's protégé, then the older one had been Barnett's. He had still been in the academy at that point, but he remembered spending a few months during the summer on Barnett's ship. He had met George Kirk then, as a young lieutenant, following the captain around as he met with the few cadets who had been selected to experience life on a starship. He had seen the affection Barnett had had for Lieutenant Kirk, as well as the anticipations and expectations he had for the younger man.

It wasn't until later, after Pike had earned a ship of his own – due entirely, of course, to Barnett's recommendation – that the man had spoken about his former protégé, and all of the hopes he had had for the man. He had lamented to his now friend that he would never have the chance to see George Kirk grow into the remarkable captain he knew the younger man was capable of becoming.

He suspected some of those dreams had shifted over to Jim, as he knew the admiral had let a lot of questionable antics made by the cadet pass – as long as no one had been physically injured, of course. Until the Kobayashi Maru incident.

It was that lingering affection for George Kirk that made Pike so willing to go to Barnett for help; yes, Jim Kirk had screwed the pooch, big time, but Chris knew that, if there was a genuinely good reason for his actions, Barnett would fight tooth and nail to get Kirk his commission.

The admiral could tell that something was wrong. And he was tired of beating around the bush. "What's going on, Chris?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, unconsciously showing his interest, and even a little bit of worry for the young man who was the focus of their conversation, in that small gesture.

Pike saw the concern, and it reassured him. There were several people in Starfleet who were only concerned with themselves – climbing higher up the ranks, keeping their exalted position – but Barnett was not one of them. He genuinely cared about those beneath him, and he wanted to see them succeed. "Winona and Sam came to meet the _Enterprise _when she docked." One look, and he could tell that the significance was lost on the admiral. Which actually kind of annoyed him. "Damn it, Richard, you told me months ago that you were keeping an eye on him."

"I was," Barnett protested, but Pike cut him off.

"Then you must have noticed that the kid hasn't gone back to Iowa in three years, nor has he had any visitors." Barnett still wasn't seeing where this was going. Pike almost growled in frustration. Was he really going to have to spell it out? "Did you ever wonder _why_ Sam Kirk ran away, or why Jim spent so much time in a jail cell?" He paused briefly, seeing the flicker of thought running through the admiral's mind. Continuing much more gently, he asked, "Do you know how many times that kid was in the hospital?"

Barnett's gaze snapped up from where it had been lingering around Pike's right hand. He met his friend's eyes, and saw a truth in them that he couldn't ignore. The pieces were all there, and yet… he couldn't fit them together.

Chris could see the admiral working it all out. _Just one more push_… "Do you know why Winona divorced her second husband?" Barnett shook his head, suddenly feeling sick. He really wasn't sure he wanted to know where this was going. But at the same time, he felt like he owed it to George. He owed it to his friend and protégé to look after his son. And if that meant listening and facing the truth – that he had, in some way, failed his friend – he would do it. Pike continued, his voice harsh and disgusted, "It was the first time he hit her. She spent most of the time off planet, and probably never cared about what was going on at home, but the first time the asshole laid a hand on _her_, she kicked him to the curb."

Chris stopped, and the room fell into silence. Barnett looked down at his hands, settled in his lap, trying to wrap his head around all that he had learned, but it was hard. George had been so full of life, so ready to get out and see the universe. He remembered when the younger man had told him of his relationship with Winona. He remembered seeing the two of them together, remembered his happiness that his friend had found someone to spend the rest of his life with.

And he remembered his guilt, after George's death. There had been no room to move up the ladder on his ship: the _Kelvin_ had an opening. Barnett had suggested the newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Kirk to Robau. The other captain had complied, and scant months later, he had been delighted to hear of his protégé's ascent to first officer. He would never forget that it had been _his_ recommendation that had placed the Kirks on the _Kelvin_.

After George's death, he had really meant to keep tabs on the rest of the family. He wanted to make sure that they were all right. But life had just kept going, and it had been pushed to the back of his mind. He was disgusted with himself now: if he had just once gone out to Iowa to check on the grieving widow, maybe he would have noticed something. Maybe something could have been done. Sam and Jim Kirk should never have had to go through that. If only he hadn't been so caught up in his own world…

He had thought about it, occasionally. But by then, he had been promoted to Admiral, and his already somewhat limited free time had become more rare. Now he was kicking himself. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and Barnett couldn't help but think about how stupid he had been.

He looked back up and met the captain's gaze, taking note of the minute signs of worry and anger in the lines around his eyes. "How did you find all this out?" he asked curiously, trying to keep the self-loathing out of his voice.

Pike sighed, and glanced away. His hands began to play with his blanket, an unconscious action to give him something to do. "I did a little digging," he admitted, slightly ashamed of the methods he had used and the rules he knew he had broken, but not willing to show it. "I couldn't believe who he was, when I found him in that bar, and when he decided to take my dare and come to the Academy… I wanted to know who that man was, and the more I watched him, the more it didn't add up. So I looked for a reason. Kid was in and out of the hospital for years." His voice hardened, and took on a mocking tone. "Cuts, bruises, broken bones… falls down stairs, roughhousing with friends… I saw the records, and the pictures. I don't know how on earth those doctors were considered fit to practice medicine."

Barnett winced. "Winona just let that happen?" That image just didn't fit with the young woman he had met all those years ago.

Chris shrugged. "Who can say whether or not she actually knew, though I don't know how anyone could _miss_ it… I'm sure she at least had an idea, but I might just be biased, and unwilling to see her in any kind of light. Honestly, I don't know how much Winona knew. It's not like Jim ever told me anything." The last part was said with rueful acknowledgment; he had tried. As the days had turned into weeks, and then to months and years, he had found himself being drawn inexplicably to the younger man. He was surprised, after looking up the records and feeling an inexplicable rage, to realize that his affections were almost paternal in nature.

Pike looked back at Barnett. "I know the kid screwed up, but you have to understand where he was coming from. He owes his family nothing. He left home at seventeen, and never looked back. Just imagine what it must have been like, seeing them after all those years of abuse and neglect, acting like nothing had happened." The captain paused briefly, and let that sink in, before continuing. "Richard, don't hang him out to dry for this. I'm asking you, as his advisor, and as your friend."

Barnett sighed. He absentmindedly rubbed his temple, feeling a headache brewing behind his eyes. "What do you want me to do, Chris?" he asked wearily.

"I want you to give the damn kid his own ship." Barnett opened his mouth, but Pike rushed on, not letting him get a word in. "We both know you were thinking about it, Richard, so don't try to deny it." The admiral closed his mouth and nodded, slightly sheepishly. Pike gave half a smirk. "Starfleet's in some deep shit, and Jim Kirk is too damn good to waste. The 'Fleet just can't afford it right now. I know what some people are going to say, and I know that one successful mission, especially one as unique as it was, is not a good measuring point, but I also know this kid. Trust me when I say the self-centeredness and the narcissistic tendencies are just a cover. The man has the makings of a great captain. Hell, he already _is_ a great one, and I _know_ that if the kid just gets a chance, he'll shock us all." He chuckled. "The fact that his IQ almost rivals Commander Spock's doesn't hurt either."

"You've had your page in the history books, now it's time to pass the gauntlet?" Barnett asked, somewhat jokingly, and with a weak chuckle.

Pike smirked. "Richard, someday I'm going to be a footnote in the book of history. Unless I'm mistaken, and I really doubt it, Jim Kirk is going to have his own fucking chapter."

Admiral Barnett considered the captain's opinions. He had seen Kirk's test scores. Top one percent in his class, completed all the coursework for the command track in three years instead of four; glowing reviews from the majority of his professors, innate knowledge of multiple subject – from engineering to navigation. And, surprisingly, even xenolinguistics. There were several admirals he knew of who hadn't even needed the Kobayashi Maru debacle to believe Kirk was a cheater. They just didn't believe someone could be that good.

Barnett knew better. He knew the kid was someone to watch. Even three years ago, when some of his counterparts had questioned Pike's sanity, personally sponsoring a man with a known criminal record, regardless of who his father was, he had listened to his friend, and kept an open mind. He had watched and gathered his own opinions and, unsurprisingly, reached the same conclusion as the captain. And it was because of that that he had been so willing to look past the minor indiscretions. And because he knew that Pike would be reaming the kid out enough for all of them.

This decision really wasn't that hard for the admiral. He wanted Kirk to succeed. He nodded. "I'll see what I can do," he agreed.

Pike extended his hand. When Barnett took the offered limb, clasping tightly, the captain replied simply, "Thank you."

The Admiral nodded again, and let go of the hand, standing up and heading to the door. He stopped on the threshold, and turned around. "You should tell him," he said, meeting Chris' gaze and seeing the confusion there.

Pike furrowed his brow. "Tell him what?" he asked curiously.

Barnett smiled, just a small one. "What he means to you. How much you care. Hell, tell him you love him. Kid probably hasn't heard it enough in his life."

And with that, Barnett left to go have a very interesting conversation with a bunch of pissed off admirals, and Christopher Pike was alone with his thoughts once more. Which he didn't particularly mind, since he had a lot to think about.

_So, how'd I do? Someone wanted the Barnett/Pike conversation, so I hope I didn't disappoint. Keep looking for more in this particular fanverse (I'm not sure if that's the right word for it, but I'm using it). Next: a follow up to the original story – what happens when the rest of the crew finds out about Kirk's past? Keep checking, it'll be up soon!_

_And of course, please REVIEW!_


	2. Chapter 2

**I feel like I should have waited a bit before publishing this story; I keep coming up with new ideas that take place in the middle of it! Once again, another suggestion from a review was the driving force behind this. I realize I left my 'deleted scene' at a bit of a cliffhanger, and, well, I just couldn't leave you all hanging. I blame my Olympic level procrastinating abilities and overactive imagination. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: nothing belongs to me**

"Did you know?"

Captain Christopher Pike looked up from the article he was reading, and took in the newly christened 'hero of the federation' standing in the doorway. He waited a moment, deliberately turning back to the PADD in his hands and switching it off, setting it down on the table next to him, before turning to look at his almost former advisee again. "What am I supposed to know?" he queried blandly.

Cadet James Kirk took a step into the room and held up the PADD in his own hands. "Did you know about this?" he asked again, a hint of desperation and uncertainty coloring the usually confident voice.

Pike reached out, and Jim passed the device over, coming to a rest an arm's length away from the bed, clenching his hands into fists behind his back to keep from fidgeting.

The captain read the official orders sent to Jim, and felt like he knew where the cadet was coming from: he could sense the insecurity and hesitancy in the younger man. In his position, Pike would probably be feeling the same way. After all, less than a month ago, he had been facing a very real expulsion. And now the admiralty was giving him a captaincy. And not just any captaincy; they were giving him the _Enterprise_. It was probably a lot to take in. And he didn't doubt that the young man was also entertaining the possibility that it was all just a cruel joke.

He sighed. "If you're asking if I have any role in the day to day functions of the admiralty…" He looked up at Kirk and his eyes narrowed slightly. "No. I'm able to give opinions and recommendations, and there are a few admirals who actually do listen to what I have to say, but in the end, it's not my decision."

"That's not what I asked," Jim replied evenly, meeting Pike's gaze with a steady one of his own. He had been surprised and shocked to get the notice, and he really wasn't in the mood for games or beating around the bush. "Did you know?" he repeated once more.

Pike looked away briefly and then turned back to his young advisee, and almost captain. "In so many words? No. Did I suspect?" He raised an eyebrow, and saw the slight blush that spread across Jim's face at the gaze. "Of course I did," he finished, almost proudly.

That caught the young man's attention. "Why?" he asked curiously. He wasn't being dense or obtuse. He genuinely didn't understand why someone would believe in him so much.

Pike could see that diffidence, and it made him angry. Not at Jim, never at Jim. He felt a rush of hatred for the family that had refused to realize what they had. For a mother who had abandoned her child, over and over, because she was too caught up living in the past. Too caught up mourning a man she would never see again, to love the young boy she had now. He felt fury for the mock replacement that woman had found, hoping that a second marriage, and consequently another guardian for her children, would ease her guilt at escaping to the stars once more. Anger at the sad excuse for a human being that had had an opportunity to teach his stepson how to be a man, to show him that he was not alone in the world, despite his mother's actions, and had ignored that responsibility, instead choosing to bury himself in alcohol and rage. He felt sorrow for what the young child had had to go through, and pride and amazement for how he had turned out; in spite of everything, or perhaps because of it, Jim Kirk had grown up to be a thoughtful and gracious man: bar fights and one night stands notwithstanding, he could see the gentleness and caring, the passion and fire, that turned good men into great ones, every time he saw Jim and McCoy together, every time he witnessed the young cadet stand up for something he believed in, be it inside the classroom or out. He had read the reports that dealt with Kirk's actions as acting captain, and he had been told of the countless requests to work with the man again. Nearly every single officer who had been on the _Enterprise_ had asked to serve with or under Kirk. Specifically with Kirk. Not the _Enterprise_. James T. Kirk.

They all wanted to be with him. Because they cared about him. They trusted him. He had led them all on a harebrained scheme that had little to no chance of working, and yet he had refused to let it fail. Despite the way he had gained the 'acting captain' title, the entire crew had followed him willingly, and looked to him when it all seemed hopeless. And he hadn't let them down.

And then, when it really seemed like the unimaginable had happened, when Nero had been defeated, Kirk had offered assistance. He certainly hadn't needed to, he definitely hadn't wanted to, but he had. He had extended a hand, and given the crazed Romulan a last chance. It was that moment that revealed so much of the young man's character. He had stared right at the man who was responsible for his father's death, for his entire childhood, and he had offered clemency. Pike knew the persona Kirk wore like a cloak was all a lie. He had known it before, and he knew it now. Jim Kirk cared more than he wanted to admit. He was a good man, and he _refused_ to give in. Because if he did, it meant that _they_ won. Frank, and Winona, and everybody else who had ever looked at Jim and seen a dead man, or a useless boy, someone not worth caring about. And Pike knew that Kirk couldn't live with that.

Jim couldn't keep looking at his mentor. His gaze slid around the room, lingering on the floor most of all. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have asked. He had built up the walls years ago, and he was used to playing the nonchalant, not a care in the world, ignorant man. Sometimes it irked him, when people expressed surprise that he was actually doing well at the Academy; did they really think all he cared about was alcohol and women? Did people really think he was that shallow?

But in Pike's presence, he always felt like the older man really saw him. Past the walls and barriers, past the masks, and into his soul. Like x-ray vision, it was both his biggest fear and his biggest source of comfort: the fact that the captain – soon to be admiral – didn't buy his dimwit charade. He knew Pike had seen his aptitude tests, and therefore had an unfair advantage to his peers, who only knew him as the cocky cadet who had spent most of the last three years sleeping through half of the females at the academy and getting into bar fights every other night.

But Pike had only dragged him into his office every time, and looked at him with something close to parental disappointment. Like he knew Jim could do better, and was upset that _he_ didn't seem to realize it.

It wasn't something he was used to, having someone who cared. Most days, he still had trouble believing it; but after the tenth or eleventh time that Pike had promised him that their little 'chats' would remain strictly off the record, and when he hadn't found himself thrown out of the academy after each indiscretion, Jim had started to think that, just maybe, there was someone out there who wanted him. Maybe he wasn't worthless, less than trash, a waste of space.

Not that a few conversations with the older man could erase years of neglect and abuse, but it was a start.

Pike started talking, and Jim drew his mind back to the conversation.

"Because I believe in you, kid," the older man replied, expression stern as he caught and held Jim's gaze. "I knew, even three years ago, that you had it in you. _You_ were the one who didn't believe it."

Jim glanced away quickly. "That's not exactly what I was asking," he voiced hesitantly, much quieter than Pike was used to. He looked back at the bedridden captain. "I mean…" he looked down at his feet, unable to meet the older man's eyes as he spoke. "Why do you care?"

One question. All it took was that one question, and Pike felt the crack that had appeared in his heart three years ago, widening significantly with each new piece of information, reach the limit; he physically felt his heart shatter. It was painful, and he struggled not to let it show.

Jim hadn't spoken with that cocky, harsh, sarcastic, bordering on insubordinate voice that he usually used when in Pike's presence, during their 'off the record chats'. It wasn't a deflection from some indiscretion that had caused Pike to give him yet another lecture on the behaviors expected from cadets and officers. The tone with which the question was posed… He could tell that Jim was genuinely curious. But not with Pike, specifically. It was more like he actually couldn't comprehend someone caring about him enough to believe that he could be more than he was.

It made Pike so angry, and so sad at the same time. No one should have to feel that. No one should know the pain that came with the knowledge that no one cares about you, that no one would even notice if you were gone.

Looking at the young man in front of him, he was struck by the sense of loss and insecurity hidden behind the carefully neutral expression. He couldn't stop the sigh that escaped him. Barnett had told him to talk to Jim; it seemed like it really couldn't be avoided, now. Jim Kirk needed to know that there was someone out there who loved him. It was difficult to wrap his brain around that idea: he had known the cadet for only three years, and it wasn't like they had spent a whole lot of time together, unless Pike was reaming Kirk out for some stupid stunt or another. But over time, the younger man had wormed his way into the captain's heart, and now, Pike really couldn't imagine not being in his advisee's life. He wanted to make sure Jim knew how much he wanted that, how proud he was of the man he had become. He wanted Jim to understand that everything he had been through shouldn't have happened. That it wasn't his fault, and it didn't have to dictate his future.

He nodded to the chair placed next to his bed. "Have a seat," he offered. Seeing the stubbornness set in Jim's expression, he sighed wearily. "Damn it Kirk, this isn't going to be a short conversation, and I really don't want to have it if I have to keep looking up at you. You're giving me a crick in the neck as it is."

Immediately, Jim took the offered chair. He gripped the arm tightly, knuckles turning white, as he still refused to look at Pike. His gaze instead settled on the edge of the bed, near the captain's right hand.

Pike nodded once. He took in the tense set of the younger man's shoulders, and the seeming inability to actually look him in the eye. Well, that couldn't be helped. He waited a beat, organizing his thoughts, and then spoke. "Jim." He saw the kid's eyes flicker briefly up at the use of his first name, and the affection he knew was in his tone of voice. But they just flickered back down, and were unreadable to the captain once more. Pike shrugged mentally, and continued. "I know you don't believe it, but there are people out there who care about you. Who would miss you if you were gone, and who would do anything to protect you."

Pike paused for a moment, letting that sink in, as well as give Jim a chance to reply, if he wanted to.

And it seemed he did. He didn't look up, but he did speak, his voice still quieter than Pike had ever believed was possible. "I know that," he responded. "I just wasn't sure…"

He trailed off, and Pike thought he knew what might be going through the genius' mind. He felt a moment of happiness as he realized that his hopes were true: Jim Kirk really did see him as more than 'that captain that saved his ass in a bar fight and dared him to enter the academy', and even more than 'just his advisor'. That one half-complete sentence reassured him that all wasn't lost. Jim wanted someone in his life who would yell at him for being an idiot, who would hug him when he needed comfort, clap him on the back and tell him they were proud of him. His hand twitched; he wanted to reach out for the other man, but he held himself back. It wasn't that time, not yet.

"Jim, unless I'm mistaken, and I really don't think I am, you've got a lot of people who care. And I consider myself to be at the top of that list."

Jim looked up, shocked. It seemed Pike had understood the meaning behind his incomplete sentence. That was… nice. He really hadn't thought the older man knew him that well. He attempted to hide the confusion behind a customary smirk. "I'm not sure I'd go with 'a lot', sir," he drawled, leaning back slightly in the chair and releasing the arm so that he could clasp his hands together in his lap. "A couple, maybe-"

"Don't you dare do that, Kirk," Pike cut him off harshly, and Jim stopped talking, looking down at his lap as the smirk slipped off of his face. Pike was angry; how could he get through to this kid, who was so determined to believe the lies he had grown up hearing? Maybe anger was the answer. Maybe he would respond to the 'irritation' angle. "Don't you dare sell yourself short, and don't you dare act like it doesn't affect you. Not anymore, and not with me."

That surprised Jim. He twitched, as if to look up, but caught himself and kept his eyes on his hands. He already knew that his advisor had seen through his cocky devil-may-care attitude in a millisecond, but that statement had him reeling. The hidden meaning and knowledge was clear. Pike knew more than he had thought.

Pike saw the movement, and felt his already shattered heart break just a little bit more. He knew how close to the chest Kirk played things. The idea of someone knowing about his past, without his knowledge or approval, probably didn't sit too well with him. It all came back to the control thing: for years, Jim had been subjected to horrors no one should know. He had had no say in the matter; all his control had been ripped from him. When he had left at the age of seventeen, it had been a way to get back that control. Pike imagined that the young man was feeling something reminiscent of that time when the ability to take charge of his own life had been ripped away from him, in the most horrendous way possible. He knew that Jim had opened up to McCoy, and he imagined it would have been monumental and scary as hell, but he had done it. Because he trusted the doctor. He liked to think that Jim had come to trust him, at least on some level; but even if he had, he still hadn't told Pike about his past. The captain imagined it was that fact, above all else, that was making all this so difficult for his advisee. Jim had had no say in the matter. Pike knew, and there was no taking that back.

"What do you know?"

The query was quiet, and Pike almost missed it. His hand twitched again, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep himself steady. When he was ready, he shrugged, making the movement casual and indifferent, though he was feeling anything but. "A few facts," he replied. "I know your record, and I know the reasons for it." He paused for a moment, and then leaned over slightly, shifting himself closer to the soon to be captain. "And I know about the hospital visits, Jim," he finished quietly. The man in question jerked slightly, stiffening up, and Pike rushed on, trying to pass along the depth of his caring to the younger man. "I read the reports, and saw those excuses… I don't know how on Earth those idiots graduated med school," he tacked on, somewhat harshly, his anger flaring up for the stupidity of Iowan doctors.

Jim let out a sound that was half snort half cough. "It worked back then," he replied, still not able to look his advisor in the eye.

"I wouldn't have bought it, even back then," Pike retorted, voice hard.

It was Jim's turn to shrug. He leaned back, and Pike could see the mask being drawn back up; it affected his eyes first. The shadow slowly disappeared, and the blue brightened slightly, and just like that, any sign of pain or sorrow was gone.

He swallowed, and his jaw line smoothed out, becoming more and more neutral, and Pike spared a moment to feel amazed at the ability of Jim Kirk to hide his feelings. It was almost like a certain Vulcan they both knew.

Within moments, the man sitting before him was the same cocky, overconfident, and slightly arrogant being he had beheld three years ago, when he had issued that dare. There was a glint of something more behind the expression, but it was gone when Pike tried to get a second look.

It was impressive and heart breaking. Nobody should be that good at hiding. Nobody should find it necessary to hide like that in the first place. Why couldn't he get this kid to understand just how important he was? Why couldn't he make this kid believe that there were people out there who wanted him, who cared about him?

With an inner curse, Pike resolved to show the younger man, no matter the cost. And he knew a way to start. The almost admiral knew exactly how many rules and regulations he would be breaking, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Jim needed to know the impact he had on those around him.

"What can I do to convince you that you matter?" Pike asked, almost desperately.

Jim shrugged again. He was suddenly anxious to leave, but unsure of how to do so courteously. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy being in the presence of his advisor; he just didn't like the personal nature of this conversation. He was fine when Pike was reaming him out over some stupid stunt, because then all he had to do was smirk and pretend that he didn't really care, and the captain would shake his head and express disappointment, and that would be it.

But now, it seemed like Pike was done pretending to buy the lies. He was done pretending he didn't see the inner turmoil in his advisee. Jim wasn't sure he could deal with that.

Pike sighed. "Kirk, do you know how many people want the chance to work with you again?"

Jim looked up, surprised. _What?_ was all he could think. People actually wanted to work with him? Who? And why?

Pike nodded. "You didn't hear this from me, but almost every single officer and cadet on the _Enterprise _requested the chance to serve with or under you." He could see that it wasn't registering with the almost captain. "Not just the _Enterprise_, Jim. You, specifically. They all just want to work with you again. Can't you see how much you matter to them?"

"But why…" Jim whispered, more to himself than to Pike.

Pike answered the question anyway. "Because they trust you. They believe in you. They watched as you walked headfirst into a no-win scenario, knowing the odds but not willing to let it stop you from doing what had to be done. They looked at you and saw the same thing I do: someone worth following." He paused to let that sink in, and then continued. "I'm not saying that you were particularly… nice about the way you got your command-" Jim winced, but Pike continued, needing the kid to understand. "But once you had it, you proved that they put their trust in the right person."

If the situation had been different, Pike might have smiled at the range of emotions raging through Jim's eyes. Confusion, bewilderment, sadness, panic, uncertainty, and beneath it all, hope. It was that last emotion that really warmed his heart. Jim _wanted_ to believe him, he could tell. Maybe he was even starting to.

"They care about you. They want you to succeed, and they want to be there to watch it happen." Another pause. "Just like I do," Pike finished quietly.

Jim sat there, thinking, as the silence stretched on. Pike seemed content to wait, settling back on the bed as he watched the effect his words had on the man sitting in front of him.

Jim couldn't process this. All those people, and they wanted to work with _him_? Pike said that they trusted him, and they cared about him. Did he believe his advisor? He wanted to. He definitely wanted to. But it wasn't that easy. He had spent so long thinking that nobody could ever care about him that much. He just wasn't that lovable.

He started. Since when had love come into the equation? But looking back, he really couldn't remember the last time he had heard those words, and actually believed them. Gaila… well, that was a can of worms better left unopened. Maybe she had loved the time they spent together, but that was a far cry from actually loving _him_.

Did he want someone to love him? A few years ago, he might have laughed off the very idea. He was James Tiberius Kirk, and he didn't need anyone.

But now? A lot had changed in the last three years. He had friends, real ones, who, for reasons he wasn't sure he'd ever really know, actually seemed to _want_ to stick around.

He had found someone he could look up to as a father figure. Someone who had given him the kick in the ass he hadn't even known he had needed, reamed him out when he hadn't wanted it, and acted interested when he hadn't even realized what was missing in his life. Pike was the closest thing to a father he had ever known.

Which sort of scared him. When had he gone from the super cool loner who didn't need anyone, to this stranger who had let himself be tied down by others? Pike, and Bones, and now Sulu, Chekov, Scotty… even Uhura and Spock? When had he become that dependent?

The strangest part was that it didn't feel that bad, this new version of him. Having friends, people who cared about him, people to care about. It almost felt… good. He had gone so long not knowing that feeling, that this taste had left him wanting, _craving_, more. He had become used to this new weight of responsibility, and found, to his surprise, that he actually liked it. It felt nice, having people to take care of, to look after. More than that, it felt _right_. Like he had finally found his place in the world. _Captain_ James T. Kirk. Yes, it definitely felt right.

And Pike? He had enjoyed his secret version of the man he called advisor. He had never once thought that the feeling might be reciprocated. That the captain had seen Jim as more than just an insufferable cadet, or a pain in his ass. He felt something akin to an insurmountable joy – not that he'd ever admit it out loud – hearing just how much he meant to Pike.

Pike could see the thought process coming to a close. He could see the moment when it all clicked in Jim's mind. "Jim." To his joy, the almost captain actually flickered his eyes up and did not look away this time. Pike continued, voice quiet and gentle. "Everything that happened, all that crap that you had to deal with… it wasn't your fault."

Jim lowered his gaze for a moment, thinking that over. He wanted to believe it, he really did. "I know," he replied quietly, more because he knew the captain expected a response than anything else.

Pike shook his head. "You're not listening to me, Jim," he reiterated, angry and trying not to let it show in his voice. "None of it was your fault."

Jim didn't say anything, just continued to think. Why did Pike have to do this? He was used to his life. He had lived it for twenty years. He didn't need someone coming in and rearranging all of his thoughts, disrupting everything he had spent so long believing in.

Why was he being so persistent? Why wouldn't he just leave it alone? No one else had ever thought he was worth the energy, so why was Pike different?

Well, the soon to be admiral had already answered that. He had said he cared. But Jim still wasn't sure how far that went. He was a realist. He liked to know where he stood with people. Pike had admitted that he wanted to be in Jim's life, that he wanted to be there to… what were the words? Oh yeah: 'be there when it all happened.' Jim couldn't believe the captain really had that much faith in him. Like the older man never had any doubt of the greatness he could reach.

And he didn't. Pike had told him that he had always believed in him. What had he done to garner such confidence and trust?

"Sometimes it helps to work it all out, out loud."

Jim glanced sharply up at the bedridden captain. Pike just shrugged and offered up a soft smile. Jim tried to glare, but couldn't make the expression work. Instead, he sighed and sat back in the chair, crossing his arms and shifting his eyes towards the foot of the bed.

"It's hard for you, isn't it?" The question hung in the air, full of understanding and pain.

After several minutes of silence, Jim finally nodded. Pike waited, knowing that he needed to wait for the younger man to come to him. He had pushed, and Jim was definitely moving in the right direction, but there was only so far the almost admiral could go. Jim had to take things the rest of the way.

"I just don't get _why_," Jim finally said, in that same quiet voice Pike was quickly and unfortunately getting used to.

Pike didn't respond for a minute, taking in the young man in front of him. It was amazing how much Jim was opening up with him. It was unbelievable to realize just how much he hid from the world. And it was remarkable, to see the kind of man the soon to be captain was, given his upbringing.

Moving slowly, he reached out and lightly rested his hand on Jim's forearm. He pretended not to notice the slight flinch, or the minute trembling. Just like he pretended not to notice the way Jim's eyes flickered down to the limb, before returning to their previous position, gazing intently at the end of the bed.

"You don't get it because you've never had it," Pike told him gently. "You're not used to it, and you don't know how to react. And believe me, I wish there was something I could do to change that. As infuriating as it is, we can't change the past. You can't change what happened, and you can't forget those memories, but Jim." Pike waited, and after a moment, Jim's gaze lifted; while he still wasn't looking Pike in the eyes, it was closer now, seeming to settle somewhere around his chin. Pike continued, "What happens next is all up to you. Don't let your past control your future. Because you've got a bright one."

"But they're my family…" Jim trailed off uncertainly as Pike cut in harshly.

"No. That Doctor McCoy, he's your family. The _Enterprise_ crew, they're your family. Me." He paused as Jim finally raised his gaze to look him directly in the eyes, surprise the dominating emotion behind his expression. Pike kept going, much softer. "_We're_ your family, Jim. Winona can't claim that honor, not any more, and not if you don't let her."

And finally, it seemed to sink in. Jim didn't have to deal with his mother and brother if he didn't want to. Because they hadn't been there for him in years. He owed them nothing. Pike was right. Bones, and Sulu, and Checkov, and Scotty, and even Uhura… maybe even Spock, if he decided to remain on the _Enterprise_ like Jim wanted him to. _They_ were family. And not the false happy, see you at the holidays, I love you because we're related and I have to, kind of family. No, their family had been the kind born in fire, and hardened by the severity of battle. They were close because they wanted to be. His mockery of a blood-family didn't even come close to comparing.

And Pike was definitely a part of his family. The older man had been more of a parent to him than Frank or Winona ever had; he had cared about him more than Frank and Winona had ever bothered to.

Jim smiled, and Pike was ecstatic to see the completely genuine expression, with none of the cocky or arrogant swagger behind the upturn of his lips. "You know, I like to think that if my father were still alive, he would be a lot like you," he told his advisor, almost shyly.

Pike couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to tell the younger man how much it meant to him to hear him say that. He squeezed Jim's arm lightly. "That may be the greatest compliment I've ever received," he replied warmly. Jim nodded, lowering his gaze for a moment, slightly overwhelmed at the amount of emotion in that statement. But Pike wasn't done. "I imagine that if I had a son, he would probably be something like you."

"Which explains why you never had kids, right?" Jim cracked, his eyes alight with mirth.

Pike only rolled his eyes indulgently, and after a moment, Jim settled back down. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Pike raised his eyebrow. "For what?" he asked, confused.

Jim shrugged. "For being there, for all those times you yelled at me, and covered up some idiotic stunt I pulled. For being disappointed, and for not giving up on me. It means a lot."

The almost admiral was stunned. After so long, and so much frustration, he had finally gotten through. He had done better than he had believed possible. Finally, he nodded. "I'll say your welcome, but there's really nothing to thank," he replied. "I did it because I cared about you. I love you and I want you to be happy and successful." He saw the alarmed expression on Jim's face, and thought back, trying to figure out where the distress was coming from. _Crap_, he thought, as he realized what he had just said. The next second, however, he was confused, as he saw the slow smile, completely genuine and happy, start on the younger man's lips, and spread quickly until it was shining in his eyes.

At Pike's inquisitive gaze, Jim simply shrugged, expression not dimming in the least. "When you say that, I actually believe it," he explained.

With the warming sensation in his chest, Pike knew that his broken heart was being put back together. He couldn't change the past, but he could help fix the future. He could help heal the scars, and he could make sure that the younger man knew, for sure, from here on out, that he was loved and valued. That he wasn't useless, or worthless, or anything else he had been made to believe at an earlier time in his life.

He nodded. "I'm glad," he responded, "Because I mean it."

Their eyes met and locked for several moments, before Jim broke the gaze. Picking the PADD up from where it had been left, forgotten, on the bed, he stood up. "I should go tell Bones the good news," he explained.

Pike nodded again. He understood some of the hidden discomfort with so much open emotion that the younger man was exuding, so he didn't object.

However, the almost captain's exit was interrupted by the appearance of Admiral Barnett in the doorway. Jim immediately snapped to attention, pulling off a flawless salute. "Admiral," he greeted somewhat stiffly, compared to the openness he had been displaying while alone with Pike.

Barnett looked the man over and nodded. "Captain," he greeted, with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile in his voice.

Jim almost flushed with the pleasure of hearing his new title. It felt _really_ good. "I was just leaving," he said, making to move around his superior.

He was at the door, when the admiral's voice stopped him. "Kirk."

Jim turned around, and stood at attention, unsure of what the admiral who had so recently displayed nothing but disgust at his somewhat dubious academic methods – recent promotion notwithstanding – wanted. "Sir?" he queried politely. Never let it be said that James Kirk didn't know how to respect authority. He just usually chose not to.

Barnett sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, almost regretfully. Ever since his conversation with Pike, he had been debating with himself about whether or not he should talk to the son of his late protégé. He had almost decided that it would be best to keep all of his guilt and regret, and not lay any of it on the younger man, but running into him here, he couldn't help it. If anything, he just wanted the cadet – captain – to know that they were on the same side.

Jim was confused. "For what, sir?" he asked, still courteous.

The admiral's shoulders drooped ever so slightly, and his gaze dropped. He suddenly looked much older than his years. "Your father was a good friend of mine," he explained, watching the way Jim suddenly stiffened, and knowing what a sore subject it was, but needing to get this all out. "I meant to keep in touch with Winona, and make sure you and your brother were all right, but…"

He trailed off somewhat helplessly, but it seemed like the other man knew what he meant. Jim nodded understandingly. "Life goes on?" he guessed, filling in the end of the admiral's sentence, not showing his discomfort over this conversation with a superior that apparently knew his family on a much more personal level than most. Barnett nodded, almost sheepishly, and Jim shrugged. "I understand, sir," he said, and the admiral raised an eyebrow. "I doubt she'd have let you through the door, anyway." The almost captain finished. After a moment, Barnett nodded again, and Jim turned around to leave. Stopping again, this time of his own volition, he looked the admiral in the eye, and Barnett was caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his gaze. "Thank you, admiral," Jim said simply. Barnett crossed his arms, and matched the cadet's – _no_, he was a captain now – gaze, refusing to let his uneasiness at the power the younger man radiated show. At the silent question, Jim gave a small half smirk. "For the promotion," he clarified.

Barnett didn't move. "What makes you think I had anything to do with you not getting your ass handed to you ten ways from next Tuesday?" he asked, with so little inflection it was almost more of a statement than a question.

It was Jim's turn to raise his eyebrow, and Pike tried desperately to hold back a snort. Barnett, however, was struck by how much the young man looked like his father when he did that. It was almost like George was standing in front of him, telling him not to be an idiot, or asking him if he really thought he could get away with it.

Finally, he shook his head. "Go on, get out of here," he chuckled, unable to maintain the serious attitude any longer.

Jim smirked again, though it wasn't the same smirk he had been flaunting – this expression was much more authentic, and true.

When it was the two older men alone in the room, Barnett turned to look at his friend. "He's going to be a great captain some day," he said.

Pike looked at the door that the newest captain had just closed. "He already is," he replied absentmindedly.

_What'd you think? I'm enjoying this Star Trek universe I've created, so I might just keep going with this story – the actual story, so look out for more chapters there, and maybe I'll consolidate, and actually put these deleted scenes in the full length story._

_Please review!_


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